Wrapped memories

When I flipped through the album yesterday, one picture particularly caught my attention. I was maybe ten or eleven and was at my grandma's place for the summer vacations when its was clicked. We were four cousins of almost the same age. The picture was me clinging on to a swing tied to the mango tree and my brother pushing it as hard as he could. I could see my hair that was short then fly in the wind and my thin legs stretched out from my knee length frock. I seemed so happy and carefree. The photo flooded me with so many memories...all kept safely locked in some chamber of my heart. I remembered the summer vacations spent in Kerala every year...the clear blue skies,lush green trees,the river beds on which we ran, for no clue how many miles, the hot sunny afternoons,the sudden showers in which we drenched happily,the in numerous mangoes we ate,all the games of hide and seek,the compulsory prayer time at the dusk when we chanted the prayers mechanically,hurrying to complete it,and on and on it went.
I remembered my last vacation there when I was done with my board exams. I had reached my grandma's house before all my cousins as my exams got over early. My brother was to join me in a month's time. He was to do with his entrance exams,so I was a good riddance at home for him prepare in peace. I was bored there. I tried to help ammama with cooking, helped achachan with gardening..Nothing caught my fancy. I missed my cousins a lot and was praying for these days to fly soon.
One such boring day, our neighbour, she was also my mom's friend,came over for a chat with ammama. She was very happy to see me. She had a very good collection of books,thats what amma had told me. I asked her if I could borrow some. She took me home with her. I fell in love with her collection,it wasn't a collection,it was a library. She said I was welcome there anytime and that I could also wander in the large mango garden she owned. Her house was a beautiful one in the midst of these huge trees that bore the delicious fruits. I have been to her place many times with amma. But those are the only times I have been there, never by myself. She had never married and hence her having no children seemed very obvious to me then. I never asked her why...never wanted to disturb the poise she displayed.
Within a couple of days we were best friends. She suggested books I could read,made me fresh lemonade,which were the best I have tasted till date, went picking mangoes together, eating don't know how many ripe mangoes everyday, talking about everything under the sun,she loved plaiting my hair for me which I readily agreed to as I was too lazy anyways... I wondered how I missed out someone so good, so near, for so many years.. One afternoon when I went over to her place to meet her, I met him for the first time. When he was introduced to me, I came to know he was her nephew. I remember how I was instantly attracted to him. He too was here for his vacation and would leave in a weeks time. Our friendship took off the very moment. He was fond of reading too. We talked about our favourite books,authors,plots,then of hobbies,school,friends,family.. We were like three very close friends chatting for ever...I loved the evening time we got for ourselves alone when we walked in the shallow river, sat watching the sunset and finally returned home after visiting the small temple nearby. One week flew by and time had come for him to leave. I felt very sad though all my cousins were going to join me the very next day,something I was yearning for. The day before he left he had taken my pictures and insisted I smiled in all of them. We had started early for our evening walk that day,on the way to the river bank, in the mango garden he kissed me on my cheeks after making sure there was no one around. That was my first kiss. And the only one I received for a long time afterwards too. Though we had promised to keep in touch,we didn't go more than a letter each from each other.. I have not met him after that day.
That was my last vacation there, as grandma passed away the same year and grandpa too the following year. We never felt like going there without them there. I met aunty a couple of times but something in me stopped me from asking about him...
I had completed seeing the album by then.. I dragged myself out of my bed and memories and went down for a walk,not by the river banks but in the small joggers park near my place.

.........bell.......

On a lazy rainy morning,as I was sitting with a cup of coffee,enjoying the beautiful greens from my window,i heard a bell ringing,from a far away place,it seemed. Its been only a week since I moved in to this heavenly abode. Its not an ad of any resort,but a house I have been yearning to own since I was a little girl. By owning it, I don't mean to have bought it with my money,it is yet another advantage of being a daughter of a filthy rich father. All of my monetary wishes are granted and dreams are turned to reality...its a compensation to the time he cant spend with us. By 'us' I mean my elder sis and myself.
I have been dreaming to live here since my childhood. Its been part of my fairy tales. My grandma was very fond of reading and had a huge collection of books. We sisters used to wait for the schools to shut for vacations,that is when we could be with her. She was a storyteller. And no matter what, my mind always imagined all the stories taking place here...it was a beautiful tile thatched house,in the midst of evergreen lushy trees...and it looked exceptional during rains..
This house belonged to an old engineer,who was a hero in his times..my grandma's tales comprised of his bravery(the way he fought for the weaker section) too...he was my prince charming in the fairy tales I heard..It was after his death,that his son decided to sell the place. I asked my father for it,and he obliged. And now I am here.
This village, by the banks of the large river that flows,is where I was born,is where I lost my mother,is where I learnt to speak and read my mother tongue,is where my grandma was..I find this place close to my heart, I have been to many places in the world(courtesy my father),but here I felt I was with my people..on my land...
Yes,the 'Bell', I wondered where it rang from..it was a sad sounding and had a melancholy rhythm..
I tried to forget about it and tried to go ahead with my daily activities..but it kept ringing in my ears.
In the evening I went out for a walk. It was warm and a cool breeze blew. I walked towards the market. It was bustling with activities there. Men unloading and arranging vegetables and fruits,hawkers shouting out prices of their goods,it was very colorful. It was then that I heard a shopkeeper speak of the bell..He was telling how unfortunate it was...and good that the church could take her in...n so on.
I went n enquired and came to know that there was a church over the hill,which had a huge bell tied in the front. It is usually rung when someone is in deep distress. This time it was for a baby. She was only a week old and was dropped at the church door.
I decided to go n see the baby. The mother there was a very pious lady. She took me to the crib the baby slept in,all cuddled up. She was an angel,I wondered how someone could have the heart to leave her to face the world alone. I came back home, with her face on my mind all the while.
Six months after that incident,today she is with me,as my daughter,in my dream house,where all my childhood fairytales took place....

Why am I here????

There have been times when I have thought I need to start writing again. Not because I am too good at it..in fact I need to learn to..but cos it gives me immense pleasure..it makes me happy..
Now that I am back at work,and my little one is doing great in her fifth month of life,i thought I could spare a little time in what I enjoy doing the most when in I am in my own company –'WRITE'.
Life has changed immensely,compared to what it used to be when I was a 'Ms' to what it is to be a 'Mrs,' and now being a mom its entirely different. Life has become fast paced,I have to grab time to do things I like to do. Every minute counts....
As we move ahead(as we grow old,'a saddening thought'),comes the realization of how precious childhood and teenage was. Now,if given a chance I would fill in my younger days with many more moments I could carry forward and cherish. To think of the days in hostel when I just slept on for hours cos I had nothing else to do(Study??? thats only a day before the exam),now I wish I could have utilized it to do something else..sob..cos now,I wish I could accommodate a night stroll,a game of cards,complete a novel,or even just not bothering to cook n clean on some days...
So,in my khoj to do something I enjoy,I opted for "THIS".
Here I can write my heart out,whenever I find time and maybe some of my friends may even read them for my relief...so here I am with FESTILIFE...or Festival called Life...